


Grey & Black

by moon_stars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Asexual Remus, Asexuality, Bisexual Sirius, Canon Compliant, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Marauders, Marauders' Era, first wizarding war, jily, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:30:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_stars/pseuds/moon_stars
Summary: As the world crumbles around them, Sirius and Remus struggle to define their relationship.A look into the lives of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black between 1978 and 1981.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cottage & an alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure what direction this story is going to go in, but it will eventually include some biSirius/aceRemus goodness & angst. 
> 
> This is my first fanfic, so please bear with me as I learn the ropes. I promise the chapters will get longer at some point. And I apologize for the inevitable typos.

August 1981 

 

-

 

The faint rumble of distant thunder stirs Remus from his stupor. With a sigh, he closes the heavy book on his lap and squeezes his eyes shut. Outside, purple-grey clouds are gathering on the horizon. The first fat raindrops of the impending storm begin to splatter rhythmically against the open window. Remus rises from his chair, too slowly for someone so young. His arthritic joints crackle and pop in response to the sudden change of position and atmospheric pressure. He surveys the scene outside the window; the rapidly darkening sky, the silver underbellies of the leaves dancing on nearby trees. A sharp breeze pushes at the window, ushering in the damp, earthy scent of a late-summer storm. Remus takes a deep breath, savoring the smell and the sudden influx of cool air seeping through the window. After a long moment, he shuts the window, and shuffles off to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

Like so many things in Remus’s life, the kitchen is a mess. Stacks of old leather-bound books teeter precariously along the countertops, dirty tea cups congregate alongside the sink, and reams of parchment cover the remaining surfaces.

As he busies himself with the kettle, he finds his mind going to the place he has willed it time and time again not to go. Why, in the midst of this insane, terrifying, heartbreaking war, is he holed up in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere with no company except for books and his copious notes? He knows, of course, why. He is a liability. A danger to himself and those around him. He is most useful to the cause as a researcher. He can hear snippets of Dumbledore’s gentle explanation swirling around and around in his head and he wants to scream. To break something. To do something.

Remus’s mind wanders to his friends. To James, to Peter, to Sirius. What are they doing, right this moment, as he putters about in his little kitchen making tea? No doubt they’re off in the thick of it somewhere, doing reconnaissance or intelligence work. Maybe even engaged in active battle. 

He tries to quell the hot wave of resentment rising up in him. It’s not their fault that they’re off working for the resistance in immediate and consequential ways, while he is stuck in isolation, reading and researching until he wants to gore his own eyes out. 

The whistling kettle interrupts his thoughts, and he silently admonishes himself. No good will come from moping. Best to just hunker down, do your work, and help however you can.

He collects his tea from the counter, and returns to his chair. The storm is in full fury now, and as he cracks open his book once more, the sky beyond the window is illuminated with the blue-white glare of lightening. 

—

A sharp crack echoes through the deserted alleyway as the world is temporarily lit up by the bolt of lightening streaking across the sky above. Sirius barely notices. His body is tense, ears straining to hear over the din of the storm raging around him. Just beyond the rolling thunder, he hears distant footsteps, smacking against the wet cobblestones. Two people, he guesses. Maybe three? The footsteps grow louder, and he can just barely make out the first words of conversation between the approaching strangers.

“Well that takes care of two more of them!” A woman’s voice, laced with sadistic glee.

“You should have just killed them. Play with them all you’d like, but finish ‘em off next time, won’t ya?” The man’s voice betrays his irritation.

“But it’s more fun this way” the woman whines. “Besides, they’ll never regain their senses. I assure you I’ve seen to that.” Her icy cackle is quickly drowned out by another clap of thunder, but not before it sends a chill down Sirius’s spine.

He would recognize that voice anywhere. That of his dear cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Sirius steals a glance of the adjacent street from around the corner of the alley. In the dim light cast by the surrounding street lamps, he can make out the unmistakable form of Bellatrix. Beside her stands the much more imposing figure of Antonin Dolohov. They hover at the doorstep of a particularly derelict building, their shadows shimmering on the wet street below them. Sirius watches as Dolohov fishes his wand out of his robes, and taps it silently against the door before them.

Immediately he sinks into the ground and disappears. Bellatrix quickly follows suit, and in an instant, the street is empty once more.

Reflexively, Sirius’s body relaxes ever so slightly at the realization that his mission has been adjourned for the night. His mind quiets for just a second, before Bellatrix’s words force themselves back into his head. “Well, that takes care of two more of them!” He feels hot fear bubble up in his chest. A wave of nausea threatens to overcome him. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what’s to come, and disapparates. 

A small pop, and the alley is silent once more, save the storm that continues to rage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument and an origin

June 1981

-

“For God’s sake Moony, stop sulking! It could be worse, you know. A lot of people would kill for your job right now.” Sirius struggles, rather unsuccessfully, to keep his voice from rising. He knows this is hard for Remus, but in light of everything else going on he finds it hard to disguise his irritation at his friend’s complaints.

“It could be worse?” Remus shoots back. “That’s something, coming from you. I imagine you would have blown this place up already if Dumbledore had put you under house arrest.” He cringes slightly at how biting his words sound. It’s not Sirius’s fault you’re in this position. Don’t take your frustration out on him.

Sirius sights. “House arrest? Don’t be so melodramatic, Moony. It doesn’t suit you.” He’s not looking for a fight. He just wants this conversation to end. He wants things to go back to normal. For his sake, for Remus’s, and for the whole bloody world’s. 

Remus can feel hot anger bubbling up in his throat. He’s steeling for a fight. He knows he should back down, but Sirius’s flippancy hits a nerve. “No. You know what doesn’t suit me?? This.” He gestures about, hoping to envelope the whole of his depressing situation in a sweep of his arms. “This doesn’t fucking suit me. And you don’t get to lecture me about how people would kill to be doing what I’m doing. Anyone who wants this job can take it. I’d love nothing more than to switch places with them.”

Sirius stares at him. “That’s because you don’t know what it’s like out there” he says coldly. 

“And why do you think that is?!” Remus doesn’t mean to yell, but the frustration welling up inside him has reached a boiling point.

“I know why, Remus! We all do! And I know you hate it, but this job makes sense for you. Look, you’re out of commission for a week and a half every month. Why shouldn’t Dumbledore give you an assignment that allows you to work even when you’re not well? You need to come to terms with it, Moony. It’s who you are. You can’t change it. You just have to adapt and make do.” Sirius’s patience is rapidly waning. The first several times he and Remus had had this argument, Sirius had been sympathetic to Remus’s perspective. Now, however, he doesn’t bother to soften his lecture.

Remus knows that Sirius only lectures when he is at the end of his rope. Usually, he respects this warning sign and backs down. This time, however, he ignores it.

“Don’t tell me what I need to do. You don’t know what it’s like.” Remus cringes at how petulant he sounds. He recognizes how childish he is being, but he can’t stop himself.

“No, I don’t. But I do know that if you actually want to help the Order, you need to grow up, stop complaining, and do your job. WE all have to make sacrifices here. Be thankful yours isn’t more painful.” Without another word, Sirius disapparates from the cottage with a small pop.

—

Ever since the day, almost three years ago, when Dumbledore had approached him with his assignment for the Order, Remus had been cooped up in in a small cottage hidden away in the wild moors of Scotland. Ostensibly, the reason for Remus’s countryside exile was so that he could conduct research for the Order in relative peace. But of course, that wasn’t the real explanation - or at least all of it. When Remus had pressed Dumbledore, pleading for a more dangerous assignment, Dumbledore sighed.

“Remus, I am the last person who wants to impose limits on you. I know that you are capable of doing all of the things that your friends will be doing in the months to come, but you have to understand my position. The logistics of dealing with your condition would be an obstacle. In any other situation, they would be an obstacle I’d be happy to confront and overcome. But right now we simply do not have the resources to accommodate your transition and recovery. It would be much easier for the Order, and I suspect yourself, if you were to commit yourself to this assignment. It is incredibly valuable work that someone needs to do and, for multiple reasons, you are the best fit for the task.” He spoke with a gentle finality that deflated Remus.

He knew Dumbledore was right. Though the transition itself lasted only a night, he was always ill in the week leading up to the full moon, and his recovery after the fact normally lasted a few days. With this assignment, he could bury himself with work even on those days when he was hardly able to leave his bed. Despite this, Remus felt a wave of anger unfurling in his chest. Anger at his body’s betrayal, anger at Dumbledore’s serene logic, anger at his friends who he knew would be right in the thick of it all. He wanted Dumbledore to leave, immediately.

“Fine.” He spat out. “I’ll play librarian for the Order and get out of everyone else’s way. When do I leave?”

Dumbledore surveyed him in silence for a moment. “Thank you Remus,” he said softly. He glanced around Remus and Sirius’s shabby apartment one last time. “I’ll be back for you in the morning.” With that, he turned on the spot and disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting and an abrupt departure

August 1978

-

From the outside, the little house in York looked unremarkable. It hovered right on the edge of dilapidation - shutters hanging pitifully from the windows, wild flowers and weeds dominating the once pristine gardens, white paint cracked and peeling in places - but the shabbily innocent exterior belied the remarkable interior. 

Sirius walked up the crumbling stone pathway, stopping when he reached the door. He pulled out his wand, and tapped it against a knot in the wood near the doorknob. His wand vibrated slightly, and he felt a burst of warmth work its way from his wand into his hand and arm. Then, satisfied with Sirius’s identity, the door swung open.

As usual, Sirius was the last to arrive. Seated at a long table in the dimly lit kitchen, the other members of the Order of the Phoenix were already assembled, waiting for the meeting to begin. At the head of the table, Dumbledore turned slightly as he heard Sirius enter. 

“Ah Mr. Black. I see you’ve decided to join us after all.” His voice was customarily light, and the usual flicker glinted in his eye. 

“Sorry!” Sirius yelped, before sliding into the empty seat between James and Remus. James shot him a smirk. Remus rolled his eyes. Peter, who sat on the other side of Remus, gave him a little wave. Lily, on the other side of James, ignored him completely. 

“Now that we are all here, I think we should begin.” With a graceful wave of his hand, Dumbledore conjured up a long list of names, which floated idly in front of him. The names undulated ominously in the air. Some were a pearlescent white, others a deep and sinister red, and still others jet black. 

“In front of me are the names of all known or suspected Death Eaters. The names in white are suspected, the ones in red are those we are currently surveilling, and the ones in black are those who we do not yet have under surveillance.” 

Sirius felt the familiar wave of apprehension wash over him as he worked his way down the list. It seemed that with every meeting the name of yet another member of his class at Hogwarts appeared. Though they were usually predictable - sadistic Slytherins with pure-blood lineage and a reputation for being the bully - every so often an unexpected name would pop up, yielding a particularly disheartening blow.

He had nearly finished looking over the list when a name caught his eye. There, in glistening black letters, the name Bellatrix Lestrange floated. Sirius felt a knot form in his stomach. He wasn’t surprised to see his cousin’s name on the list, but it upset him all the same. He clenched his fist and stared straight ahead, conscious of the fact that both James and Peter were staring at him. 

“As you can see, we have a couple of additions this week. Thanks to some excellent sleuthing on the part of Alastor,” Dumbledore gestured toward Moody, who nodded expressionlessly, “we can confirm that a Mr. Antonin Dolohov and a Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange have joined the ranks of Lord Voldemort’s followers.” Dumbledore paused as murmurs arose from the table. 

When the noise subsided, he resumed. “I believe it would be a good idea to get tails on these newcomers as soon as possible.” He turned toward Sirius. “Mr. Black, you are probably more familiar with Mrs. Lestrange’s habits than any of us, so I shall assign you the task of surveilling her,” Dumbledore shifted his gaze to Sirius’s right, “And Mr. Potter, I believe you are still in need of a surveillance target as well. If you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Mr. Dolohov, it would be a great help.” 

Sirius felt his face color slightly as he nodded in response. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he and Bellatrix were related, but nor was it a fact he wanted advertised. However, there was truth in Dumbledore’s logic; Sirius did know his cousin better than any other Order member, much as he was loathe to admit it. From his right, he could still feel James’s gaze seeking his own. He ignored it.

“Excellent. Well that takes care of that then.” Dumbledore waved his hand again, and the names disappeared. “Now, I believe Alastor has some more intelligence to share with us.” He gestured toward Moody, who promptly stood up. 

“We intercepted a rather interesting owl earlier this week,” Moody growled, as he pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket. His fake eye scanned the faces of everyone at the table while his real eye focused on the letter in front of him. “'Phoenix Fire - the 22nd.' Any guesses what that may mean?” Now his eyes worked in tandem to search the faces surrounding him. 

The brief silence was interrupted by a quiet voice. “Sounds like they’re planning on launching some attack against the Order on the 22nd” opined Alice Longbottom, her eyebrows knitted together in worry. 

“Indeed it does. So the question is, what kind of attack? Where? Against who exactly? They can’t hit us here, so clearly they’re banking on drawing some of us out somewhere. Staging something that gets our attention.” 

“Are they really so stupid as to put something like that in writing? I mean, maybe it doesn’t give the details, but to put the date and the name of the target in a letter, knowing how frequently owls are being intercepted these days seems pretty reckless. What if it’s a plant? Designed to throw us off the scent of whatever they’re really up to?” Gideon Prewett frowned as he spoke.

“Do we have any idea who sent it?” Fabian, seated next to Gideon, inquired. 

“Not yet,” Moody replied gruffly. “Longbottom, I need you to run a handwriting analysis on it,” down the table, Frank nodded in response. “And McKinnon, I need you to run a forensic scan. Any sort of information you can dig up on its origins.” 

Marlene nodded. “Of course. Do you still have the owl that was carrying it?” 

“Yes. Hagrid’s keeping an eye on her. She’s small, black, and not at all pleased about having been captured. Any of you want to go check her out?” 

“I will.” Alice volunteered. 

“Good. Now for the rest of you - we need to double down on our surveillance. Chances are whoever is behind this letter, and more importantly whoever is behind this plot, is already under our watch. Keep your eye out for any unusual movements of your target. Remember to record any meetings between your target and any other Death Eaters. And above all, exercise constant vigilance. We don’t need any of you getting blown up.” With that, Moody clapped his hands together and sat down. 

“Thank you Alastor. Now before we wrap this up, does anyone else have anything to share?” Dumbledore searched the faces around the table. “No? Very well. Meeting adjourned.” 

At last, Sirius had no choice but to confront James’s gaze. “Just leave it,” he mumbled, before James could say a word.

James opened and closed his mouth, searching Sirius’s face for a moment. Then he nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

Sirius shifted his gaze from James to Lily, eager to change the conversation. “So Lil, how is the Healing Operation going?” Lily was working as a medic for the Order, and by all accounts excelling at it. 

She shrugged. “Well, I suppose. Though it never really seems to get easier...seeing people come in all bloodied and scarred.” She squeezed her hands together. “I mean, I’m happy to do it, and it’s great knowing I can be of some help, but…” her voice trailed off slightly. “I long for the day when I can just take up a residency at St. Mungo’s, you know?” She smiled sadly. 

“Of course. Hopefully that day will come sooner rather than later,” Remus responded from Sirius’s side. 

Sirius stole a glance at Remus. He had barely seen him since they had finished school, and he was suddenly taken aback by how old Remus looked. Dark bags saddled his eyes, and Sirius couldn’t help but notice several new scars lining his face and neck. 

“How’s the research going, Remus?” Lily inquired. Sirius bit his lip. He, James, and Peter knew better than to bring Remus’s assignment up. It seemed James had neglected to pass the message along to Lily. 

“Fine” Remus answered curtly. “Actually,” he stood up, joints crackling, “I should probably head back. Dumbledore’s got me working on a fairly time-sensitive project at the moment.” 

“Oh.” Lily glanced at James, instantly aware that she had said something wrong. “Do you have to leave this very minute? We’ve barely seen you since school ended!” 

Remus busied himself with fastening his cloak, steadfastly ignoring Lily’s searching eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s also…” he gestured vaguely, though it was obvious to the others that he was indicating the upcoming full moon. “But we should all get together soon.” 

Lily nodded. “Of course. You should all come to dinner at our place some time next week. James has finally learned how to cook! Well, a bit anyway.” She forced a small smile. 

“Yeah, definitely. Well, I’ll see you all then, I guess?” Remus gave them an unconvincing smile, then headed off down the dark hallway toward the door. 

“What did I say?” Lily turned to James, Sirius, and Peter as soon as they heard the front door click shut. 

James sighed. “He’s just a bit touchy about his assignment. He hates being cooped up with all of those books when he knows we’re all out following Death Eaters and whatnot.” He ran a hand through his tangled mess of black hair. 

“Plus,” Peter chimed in, “it’s nearly the full moon. He’s always a bit short with us when it gets close to that time.” 

Sirius sat in silence. The one good thing about Remus’s abrupt departure was that it had at least temporarily distracted him from thinking about Bellatrix. He was worried about Remus. He knew how much his assignment had upset him, and even worse, he, James, and Peter had been so busy with their own jobs that they had barely visited him in the last few months. It had to be difficult for Remus, transitioning alone in the small cement cellar under his cottage. 

“I think I’m going to go after him. Just check in and make sure everything’s ok.” Sirius stood up. “Let’s make sure to do dinner next week. It would be good for all of us.” James, Lily, and Peter nodded. 

Sirius bid them farewell, then made his way toward the door.


	4. Chapter 4

August 1978

—

The cottage was dark when Remus returned to it. He quickly busied himself with turning on the lights and setting up the kettle for tea. 

He watched intently as steam began to leak out from the kettle’s spout. He knew he had been short with his friends, and felt guilty about it. It’s the approaching full moon. You’ll feel better once it has passed. But no matter what he told himself, part of him knew that his mood had little to do with the lunar cycle. 

Remus had undergone his last two transformations alone, locked in the cold, concrete cellar beneath the cottage. It had been a few years since he’d last gone through a transformation without his friends by his side, and he had forgotten how unpleasant it was. Each time he awoke, covered in bruises and scratches, feeling like he had been hit by a train. He knew that it wasn’t fair to expect his friends to drop everything to comfort him once a month, but their absence stung all the same. 

And then there was the other thing. A nagging thought that had been tugging at the corner of Remus’s mind for some time now. Over the course of their final year at Hogwarts, he and Sirius had become closer than ever. After the incident with Snape and the Whomping Willow, Remus hadn’t believed he would ever be as close to Sirius as he once was. But during their seventh year, something changed between the two. Sirius, perhaps recognizing the need to regain Remus’s trust, had opened up more to Remus than he had in their previous six years of friendship. Remus learned things about Sirius he had only suspected before, things about his troubled childhood, his abusive parents, his estrangement from his younger brother. And in return, Remus felt himself opening up more to Sirius; telling him the story about how he was bitten, sharing his fears and worries about what his condition meant for his future, and his lasting insecurities about his place in the Marauder friendship. Slowly their friendship not only mended itself from the aftermath of the Incident, it took on a more intimate quality that neither he, nor he suspected Sirius, had ever imagined. 

So what then did that make them? Remus had been methodically working through all of the possible labels for his relationship with Sirius. Friends? No, he and Peter were friends. He and Sirius had something more.   
Brothers? No, James and Sirius were brothers. Remus experienced none of the loving sibling rivalry that marked James and Sirius’s relationship, nor any of the shared memories growing up at the Potter house. 

Inevitably, this train of thought led him to question if theirs was a romantic relationship. On the one hand, Remus felt that a romantic relationship came the closest to describing him and Sirius. There was intimacy, love, and at least on his part, a desire to spend the rest of his life with Sirius. On the other, there was none of the physical desire that Remus imagined most romantic relationships had. Though, when Remus really thought about it, that physical desire was nothing he had ever experienced in relation to anyone. Maybe it was just another part of him that didn’t quite work right. Maybe what he had with Sirius was the closest he would ever get to experiencing love. 

Remus’s meditation was abruptly interrupted by a pop, and the sudden materialization of Sirius in his sitting room. 

“Oh. Hello there.” Remus smiled weakly. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

Sirius looked unusually flustered. “Hi. I just thought I’d pop over and check in on you…” his voice trailed off, unsaid words hanging in the silence between them. 

“Oh, well. I’m fine. Just making some tea. Would you like some?” Right on cue, the kettle began to whistle frantically. Remus scurried over to the stove. 

“Er, yeah. Thanks. That would be nice.” Sirius plunked himself onto the squishy green armchair that he claimed each time he visited. 

Remus took his time preparing their cups. He wasn’t mad at Sirius. He wasn’t mad at any of his friends. He just felt forgotten, shunted to the side. It felt like the realization of a fear he had harbored since the very first time he had met Sirius, James, and Peter; that one day they would get tired of him and abandon him. He shook his head to clear the thoughts. No, if Sirius didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t be sitting in your living room right now. 

With a flick of his wand, the tea cups floated over to the side table between the chair where Sirius sat and Remus’s own. He followed closely behind, collapsing into his burgundy chair with a sigh. 

“So how are you? How is your work going?” Remus decided that preempting Sirius’s questions was his best strategy. 

“Oh.” Sirius looked slightly taken aback. “Er, good, I guess. James and I just finished up our Auror training. So now we move on to the real thing, I guess.” He scrubbed a hand through his long hair. “I imagine we’ll just be doing a lot of surveillance stuff at first. Following people around and whatnot. Doesn’t seem all that exciting to be honest.” He fidgeted in his chair, concentrating on his cup of tea rather than Remus’s face. 

Remus sighed. “You don’t need to make it sound boring for me. Really,” he insisted at the skeptical look on Sirius’s face. “In fact, how else am I going to get any sense of excitement and adventure? Better for it to be vicarious than nonexistent.” He gave Sirius a small smile, hoping it would put him at ease. 

Sirius smiled sadly back at him. “Yeah, well. I’m being honest. But I’ll keep that in mind for future reference.” He paused a moment, deliberating. “So,” he ventured, “how is the research going? Anything interesting?” 

Remus smiled in earnest this time. “Pads, you really don’t have to tiptoe around me. You look like you’re expecting me to bite your head off at any moment.”

Sirius visibly relaxed as a smile spread across his face. “I’m quite certain there have been times when you’ve tried to bite my head off. So excuse me my sense of caution.” 

“Not normally in human form though. That would be a bit of a departure for me.” Remus chuckled. The tension in the room had dissipated almost entirely, and Remus felt a wave of relief wash over him. It felt like the intervening months since graduation had never happened. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were hanging out in the common room after everyone else had gone to sleep. Just the two of them, sharing stories, perfectly at ease with one another. 

“Moony,” Sirius started, “I know it’s been hard for you the last few months. And all of us - James, Lily, Peter - feel awful about not having been over here to see you more. Especially during the full moons. Hopefully now that Auror training is over for James and I we’ll be around more.” He paused, collecting himself. "I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t think we were ignoring you.” His words ended on a pleading note that made Remus’s heart hurt. 

Though part of him had known it was the case all along, Sirius’s words were the affirmation he had been so desperately in need of. 

“I know, Padfoot. And I’m sorry I was a bit of a grump earlier. It’s just hard, being holed up here, away from the action, away from all of you.” Remus took a long sip from his cup of tea to avoid meeting Sirius’s eyes. 

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s been hard for me - us - being away from you too.” Sirius downed the rest of his tea, before abruptly standing up and marching into the kitchen. 

Remus listened to the thunking of cabinets and clinking of glasses coming from the other room as he mulled over Sirius’s words. It’s been hard for me - us - being away from you too.

A moment later, Sirius reappeared with a mostly-full bottle of firewhisky and a couple of glasses. He dropped the glasses on the table before pouring them each a generous amount. 

“I assume that the work you’re doing for Dumbledore isn’t so time-sensitive you can’t take a night off?” Sirius smirked, handing Remus a glass. 

“I suppose not.” Remus lifted his glass in a toast. “To post-grad life, and all of the shit that comes with it.” 

Sirius laughed, raising his glass in return. “To post-grad life and all of the shit that comes with it.”

Remus took a long swig from his drink, savoring the warmth that spread from his throat into his chest and stomach. It had been a long time since he’d had a drink, and almost immediately he could feel its effects loosening him up. 

He watched Sirius as he too took a long drink. Sirius - all long, graceful limbs draped elegantly over the chair. His long, dark hair in a perpetual state of unkemptness. His aristocratically handsome face perpetually clouded over by some darkness. Remus had no problem admitting to himself that Sirius was, both objectively and subjectively, extremely attractive. He just didn’t know what that meant for him. 

“What are you looking at, Moony?” Sirius smiled lazily as he reached for his glass again. “You’re looking at me like I’m a bloody steak.”

Remus felt his face go red, and took another gulp of firewhisky to avoid answering. 

“It’s ok, I’m used to it.” Sirius winked, then downed the rest of his glass. “Come on Moony, keep up! You’re drinking like a third-year!” 

Remus emptied his glass, setting it back on the table for Sirius to refill. 

“Man, I’ve missed this.” Sirius sighed as he handed Remus his glass. “God, I wish we had never graduated. If I could stay at Hogwarts forever, I would.” 

Remus took a small sip. “Well thankfully for all of the future and present Hogwarts professors and students, you can’t.” He smiled wickedly at Sirius, who in return reached out to smack him, missing spectacularly. “Nice aim,” Remus taunted, dodging another blow. “I may drink like a third-year, but at least I don’t handle my alcohol like one.” 

Sirius set down his glass, and launched himself at Remus. 

They tussled on the floor, a heap of tangled limbs and hard, lean bodies. Remus yelped as Sirius bit his ear lobe, before quickly flipping him on to his back and pinning down his arms. They both laughed, faces red from the firewhisky and wrestling. Sirius’s chest was heaving under Remus’s, a devilish smile plastered on his face. “Well hello there” he grinned. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say I think you like being pinned down by me,” Remus teased, tightening his grasp on Sirius’s arms as he wriggled futilely beneath him. 

“And what makes you know better?” the smile had slipped from Sirius’s face, replaced by a hard, inscrutable expression Remus couldn’t quite interpret. 

“I -“ but before Remus could answer, Sirius flipped him over, leaving Remus pinned to the floor. “You’ve gotten stronger,” Remus remarked idly, still scrutinizing Sirius’s face. He thought he saw the flicker of a frown cross Sirius’s face, before he dipped down to press his lips against Remus’s. 

Remus froze, the cogs in his mind screaming to an abrupt halt. Sirius’s lips were warm and slightly sticky with whiskey, and he could feel the heat radiating off of his face. 

Suddenly, Sirius pulled back, quickly relinquishing Remus from his grasp. He sat back on his heels. “Er…”

Remus could feel his face burning as he sat up. “I— what was that?” He felt dazed. 

“I’m…not really sure.” Sirius laughed nervously. “Was it ok? For you?” He stared at the carpet beneath them, worrying at a loose thread. 

“Er. It was…unexpected?” It dawned on Remus, as he said those words, that that wasn’t entirely true. Hadn’t a part of him been expecting this for quite some time? Still, he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Oh. Right.” Sirius fidgeted, “but - er - other than being unexpected, was it ok? Or should I be apologizing?” He laughed again, this time daring to meet Remus’s gaze. 

“You don’t need to apologize. It was…fine.” He couldn’t quite find the right words. Was it fine? What did it mean? Did he enjoy it? A hundred questions materialized in his head, each desperately jockeying for his attention. “Er…Sirius? Do you, ah, think of me as something other than, you know, just a friend?” He reached for his glass of firewhisky, desperate for some small distraction.

Sirius hesitated for a moment, before taking another swig of his drink. “Well, yes I suppose,” he started cautiously. "Or I was starting to, at least before school ended…” his voice trailed off, waiting for Remus to say something. Sensing that no response was forthcoming, he continued. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way. I mean, haha, I don’t even know if you’re into blokes.” Sirius smiled ruefully. He reached for the now considerably lighter bottle of firewhisky, and topped up each of their glasses. 

Remus considered it for a moment. Was he into blokes? He’d never really given it much thought. He’d always just assumed he was straight - not out of any real sense of conviction, but because it seemed to be the default, what was assumed given a lack of any real evidence to the contrary. “I suppose I don’t really know myself,” he admitted. 

Sirius gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile. “Well I’d be happy to help you figure it out. You know, if you want to.” His face was bright red, though from embarrassment or drink Remus couldn’t tell. 

Remus finished his drink. “I think I would like to, actually.” He tentatively returned Sirius’s smile, unsure of what exactly he was getting himself into.


End file.
